Time To Go
by tris4eaton
Summary: Story follows If I Stay and Where She Went by Gayle Forman. Mia and Adam set off on a new adventure. This is the third book that should have been written and fills in the space between Adam leaving Shooting Star and becoming a solo artist 3 years later. *UPDATED AUGUST 30th*
1. Introduction

**TIME TO GO**

COMING FEBRUARY 14, 2015

Time To Go follows Adam Wilde and Mia Hall as they set out on a new journey together. This story coincides with If I Stay and Where She Went by author Gayle Forman. I do not own If I Stay, Where She Went, or any of the characters. I do own the character Liam Johns. It is best to read If I Stay and Where She Went before reading this story, but if you haven't you should still be able to follow the story. I am posting a character list on my profile so be sure to check that out. Also, be sure to check out my story Convergent in the Divergent fandom.


	2. Chapter 1

"Breaking news tonight! Shooting Star crashes and burns. It has just been announced that the band is splitting after their European tour that was almost canceled because of front-man Adam Wilde. 'Wilde Man' has been known to cause division in the band in the past, but the official cause of the band's demise has not been disclosed at this time. The band is set to have a farewell show in Portland on Saturday night..."

I turn the tv off without listening to the rest of the report. That is the third time that I have heard that reported this morning alone, but it's been talked about nonstop since the tabloids were informed two months ago. I'm not sure who gave them their information about the tour almost being canceled, but that isn't true. I'm not sure that the farewell show is a good idea, either. The band hasn't exactly been friendly the past couple months. The end of the tour was almost excruciatingly painful. I sigh as I get off the couch and head into the bedroom to pack the remainder of my belongings that have yet to be packed, which isn't really that much. All I have is what I brought back with me from Europe and the things that I bought here and there since I've been back in New York. The rest of my stuff, I assume, is either sitting in boxes in the small closet that Bryn and I used to keep my guitars in, or spread out between the Salvation Army and the dump. Most of Mia's stuff has been packed up already. The only things that remain are all of her pictures and a couple of pieces of clothing that can probably fit in a single suitcase.

Making this decision was hard for both of us. We've both become accustomed to her little house here. There wasn't much space here, but she made as much room for me as she possibly could. To me, this place felt more like home than any other place I've lived. As for Mia, I told her she didn't have to come back with me. My plan was to play the show, gather whatever was left of my belongings in LA, and I'd come back here, but she wouldn't agree. I think part of her worried that I might not return. Not because I wouldn't want to, but because I might not make it. She never voiced this, but I could see it in the look in her eyes. Throughout the conversation there was this somewhat frenzied expression shining through her calm demeanor. So she decided that this was a step that we would take together. I also knew she worried that the voices would go away if she went back to Oregon. I promised her I'd help her listen out for them.

So here we are, packing our things and getting ready to move across the country, back to where we started and where it all fell apart. I grab my small duffel back that I used to keep all of my personal belongings in when I would travel with the band and pack it full with my shampoo, toothbrush, and other various items that are lying around. I open the medicine cabinet and remove all of Mia's skin creams and other things that I have no idea what they are or why she needs them.

"How's the packing going?" She asks, standing in the doorway.

She got up early this morning so she could go to the post office and have them forward her mail to her grandparents house. Mine is still going to LA I assume.

"Fine, I guess," I shrug. "You know how I feel about it."

"I know," she laughs. "But this time we have to take it all."

In the past when I would hit the road with the band, I'd bring a couple changes of clothes, my toothbrush, and my guitars. Not only was there not much space in the van, I also just hated having to pack when I would just have to unpack it later. Besides, I don't see why people need to bring so much stuff with them when they're only going to be gone for a few days, maybe a couple weeks. But this time, like Mia said, is different.

"Why don't you go put the boxes that are already packed in the car and I'll finish up in here," she smiles again. "That's not so bad, is it?"

"It could be worse," I shrug and turn to walk out of the room.

"Hey," she says, pulling me into a hug.

"Hmm?" I ask as I wrap myself around her small frame.

"I don't want anything to change," she says quietly.

"It won't. You'll still be able to go back and forth for recitals and I'm sure you'll stay in contact with Ernesto and..." She cuts me off.

"That's not what I meant."

I know that's not what she meant. When I look down, her wide eyes are staring up at me. Strands of hair are in her face. As much as I would like to, I can't guarantee that nothing is going to change. Oregon is where our history is. I don't know what's going to happen, but I know it won't be like the past couple of years didn't happen. I brush the hair out of her face and cup her cheek with my hand. She leans into my palm and takes a deep breath.

"We're gonna be fine," I tell her, kissing her forehead slowly.

"I don't want you to change your mind," she says, her voice unstable.

"Change my mind?" I repeat. "Why would I change my mind?"

"Because. Because it's going to be so complicated - getting used to new schedules, working around recitals. Because you might miss your old life. The band. The rockstar life. Bryn."

"Listen here, Hall," I pull back and look straight into her eyes. "I am not going to change my mind. The past five years of my life have revolved around you, Mia. Every single minute of every single day. It didn't matter where I was or where you were or if we were fighting or even if we weren't speaking. That life I had, it wasn't a life. I'm not going to go back to the band. I don't want that rockstar lifestyle. And I absolutely do not want Bryn Shraeder. Everything I have done, all of it, I did to get you off my mind, even just for a little while."

"Adam," she whispers, tears now falling down her cheeks.

"What?" I ask her, running my hand down the side of her face.

"We have to finish packing," she laughs through the last of her tears.

I nod my head and walk to the living room to grab some of our boxes. Ever since we got back together, Mia hasn't been the same. She was always the girl that knew what she wanted. Even if she acted like she was having a hard time making a decision, she always knew what she wanted deep down. She was always so stubborn and so independent. Lately, she's clingy and can't decide what she wants. I love having her back in my life, but sometimes I think that it's doing her more harm than good. I take the first group of boxes out to the car. Since I was originally planning on doing the tour and then going right back to LA, I left my car there, and of course Mia didn't have one since everything she needs is within walking distance, so we had to rent one. Renting a car to drive across the country in definitely was not cheap. When I walk back into the house, Mia already has the items from the bathroom packed. I can see her standing next to the bed, carefully putting away all of her pictures. Sometimes it still is so surreal that she's actually standing in front of me. The world may think that Bryn is the very definition of beauty, but she's got nothing on Mia. I walk up behind her and run my fingers through her hair.

"Adam!" she jumps and turns around. "You scared me."

"Sorry, Hall," I smirk.

"I'm almost done in here," she says turning back around.

"I remember that one," I point to the photograph in her hand. "When we came back from the show that night, they were sitting in the living room laughing at him."

Teddy stands in the middle of the room, Mia's cello in hand. The two were always competing in height, but in this picture he's an entire head taller than it because he's in Mia's heels. Kat and Denny were on the couch cheering him on. He was always listening to rock music, especially his dad's old music and Shooting Star's, so he said that he wanted to see what it would be like to be Mia for once. I captured the moment with my phone and sent it to Mia later.

"I didn't know you printed that one out."

"I had to," she smiles widely.

I kiss the back of her head and then go into the other room to carry out more boxes before I lose my cool. Losing those three was hard for me, too. Even though I wasn't related to them, I felt like I was apart of the family. Going on without Kat and Denny was bad enough, but Teddy. Teddy was what made me vomit. I try not to think about it as I pack our boxes into the rental car. If I think about it, then she'll know and she'll think about it, too. I know that she already is, but I don't want to make it worse.

"Maybe we should have rented a larger car," Mia says shoving a box into the trunk.

"Well, there's always the backseat," I shrug.

I know that my guitars and Mia's cello are getting strapped into the backseat, along with her box of pictures, but there will still be space for a box or two.

"I don't know," she sighs. "Are we doing the right thing, Adam?"

"I think we are," I shrug. "I've missed being back home."

And that did it. That simple statement, the simple acknowledgement that I have feelings, sends her over the edge again. But this time, her breakdown doesn't come with tears. This one comes with anger.

"Well no one told you you had to stay here, Adam," she yells.

"Mia," I sigh, "I don't want to do this right now. I don't want to spend our last couple minutes here being miserable."

"You're right," she sighs as well. "Let's just finish up."

We pack

our remaining boxes into the car in silence. While I'm strapping in our instruments, Mia disappears inside. I walk to the front door and stick my head inside.

"Hall!" I yell.

When silence is my only response, I meander into the house and find her in the bedroom.

"There are so many memories here," she mumbles as she runs her hand over the now vacant bed.

"Yeah, there are," I agree, remembering our first night here together. "But it's not home, Mia. All of our memories, they're in Oregon. The good, the bad, we went through it together and that's where our home is. That's where I want to be, with you."

"You're right," she grimaces. "Well then I guess it's time to go."


	3. Author's Note

Hey everyone! I know it has been way too long since I posted the first chapter, but I've been really busy with a lot of things and I just wanted to let you guys know that I didn't forget about this story. I'm wanting to reread the books again so that I make sure I keep this story as close to them as possible. I'm gonna try to find time to read em, but like I said, I've been really busy. I should be finishing most of my classes up by the end of this month so I'm hoping to be able to read both of the books after that and then get you guys some really great updates! Just hang in there!


	4. Chapter 2

Adam looked incredibly happy when he came off the stage that night. He had been really nervous before the show that started off Shooting Star's sixty-seven day European tour. It had been years since I'd seen Mike and Fitzy and Liz, but I could tell from the way they greeted Adam the night we got in that things weren't going well between them. He'd reached for a cigarette several times, but much to his chagrin, his wanting hand was met by an empty pocket. So when he came off that stage with a smile on his face and the glint in his eye that I hadn't seen since I moshed at the club on Halloween night back before everything changed, I thought that he might have changed his mind about leaving the band.

Saturday, August 21 • London, England

"You guys were great up there!" I yell, wrapping my arms around him.

"That was incredible," he smiles at me.

"So you were nervous for no reason?"

"No, I had every reason to be nervous," his hands are shaking a little, but he still smiles.

"Are you still considering..."

"Adam, you gotta get cleaned up," Aldous interrupts. "M&amp;G in 10."

"Meet and greet," Adam clarifies when he sees my questioning brow.

"Okay, well we can talk when you're done," I try to encourage him. "It'll be fine."

"At least sit in the dressing room with me," he hesitates.

"Okay. Yeah, of course."

He takes a quick shower and gets dressed just as Aldous is pounding on the door, his signal to Adam that it's time. The rest of the band were all sharing the room next door, and I could hear them talking loudly as they waited for Adam. He came over and hugged me, and it took everything in me not to run my hands through his wet hair.

"Here," I give him a small smile as I hand him the tiny pill that I know he's been desperate for.

"Thank you," he sighs and then gives me a small kiss.

"It'll be over before you know it."

Hours passed by. I waited in the dressing room reading a book on the small couch. I planned to meet him at the door so I could judge which pep talk I needed to give: the "the fans are so excited to see you they probably didn't notice your shaking hands" talk - a fear of his which we talked about on the plane - or the "they're your friends and they just need to understand that this isn't your fault" talk that I assumed I'd have to give after many of the fans flocked to Adam instead of everyone else. Suddenly, the door opened.

"Come with me," Aldous already had me by the arm.

"Where are we going?"

"Just come," he insisted.

"Where's Adam?"

"Just come," he repeated.

"Aldous. Where is Adam?"

"He's having a small disagreement with the band," he grimaced.

"A small disagreement? About what?"

"Just Shooting Star things," he blew me off. "Just wait here."

I was now standing in a garage that housed the van that we would be taking back to the hotel.

"Aldous!" I yelled as he came back the way we came.

Several minutes later, 20 if you want me to be precise, Adam came storming through a side door.

"What're you doing in here?" He asked sarcastically.

"Aldous dragged me here."

"I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Sorry," I shrug. "It wasn't my choice."

He kicked the wall.

"What happened?" I gripped his arm tightly.

"Didn't go well," he mumbled.

"The meet and greet?"

"Yes, Mia, the meet and greet," he rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, just trying to clarify," I folded my arms over my chest. "Well?"

"Everyone wanted me to sign something or to take a picture with me."

"And why is that a problem?"

"Just me. They barely acknowledged the band," he tried to reach for his bottle of pills that we left in the dressing room.

"No," I grabbed his hand. "That's not your fault, Adam."

"I don't want it," he groaned. "I didn't ask for it."

"I know," I nod. "But I can't blame them."

"The band?" He said incredulously.

"The fans," I laughed. "You're pretty sexy when you're onstage. And when you get off stage. And when you get out of the shower. It's no wonder they go crazy for you."

"Mia," his jaw tightened.

"I'm serious," I pressed up against him. "It's primal."

I kissed his ear and the side of his neck and his cheek and then his lips. I could feel his body becoming less tense.

"How about we forget about them and go back to the hotel? I'll be your groupie tonight," I grinned.

"Mia Hall, you don't have what it takes to be my groupie," he joked.

I knew it was a joke, but it stung a little. Thinking about the girls that had been his groupies at one time. At least he was in a better mood.

"I guess I'll have to prove you wrong."

At the beginning of that night, I was sure that Adam would change his mind about leaving the band. But by the end of it, as I laid with my head on his chest, with the shaking of his hands stopping only when they touched me, I knew that this night would solidify his decision.

"This is horrible," he frowned staring down at his plate.

We had only been on the road for a few hours when we decided to stop to get lunch. He didn't want to go to any popular restaurants in case someone recognized him, so we pulled off the road at a small diner that, truth be told, looks like it's been a primary location for several horror movies. The food tasted worse than the place looked.

"It really is," I frowned as well. "I don't think this can be considered coffee."

"That's it," he shook his head and threw some money on the table. "Let's just get some stuff at a convenience store. Even that will be better than this."

There was a gas station just across the road. We got more junk food than anyone should ever have and then we hit the road again.

"Mi," Adam says after a while. "I can't do it anymore."

"Oh, come on, it's only been a few minutes," I roll my eyes.

"It's been an hour and a half."

"Fine," I sigh.

I switch the station from the classical music station to some others, trying to find a station that will come in. I finally get something other than static, but my victory doesn't last long.

"This next song is what got me through my last breakup," the DJ on the station is saying. "This is from Collateral Damage, it's Shooting Star!"

"I'll take the classical," Adam mutters turning the station quickly.

"It doesn't matter the circumstances surrounding it, ya know," I comment.

"What are you talking about?" He continues to stare straight ahead.

"It's a great album," I go on. "Therapeutic."

"I don't want to talk about it, Mia."

"There's no reason for you to igmore it," I press further. "It helped you through a hard time, it really put you guys on the map..."

"And look where that got me, Mia," he yells. "Look where I am right now."

"Where you're at doesn't seem so bad to me," I say coldly.

"I didn't mean..."

"Classical it is," I cut him off and find the classical station again.


	5. Chapter 3

It seems like days have passed by since we stopped at that awful diner for lunch. I know it's only been hours, though. Still, I can barely keep my eyes open. I glance over at Mia in the passenger seat. I know, even though she won't admit it, that this has to be bothering her. Just as I thought, her eyes are wide open, staring at the road in front of us, slightly tensing every single time a car passes by. I look back to the road and slowly move my hand to cover hers. Like always, it's ice cold. I take her other hand and bring them closer to me, blowing on them to warm them up like I've done so many times before. I place a light kiss on each palm then slide my fingers in between hers.

"You're tired," she says, now staring at me.

"I'm fine," I shake my head, but I know my bloodshot eyes betray me.

"I can drive for a while," she says calmly.

"I'm fine, Mi," I try not to look at her.

"It's getting late," she continues. "We should probably stop soon, anyway."

"What's nearby?" I ask and she removes her hand from mine.

"I don't know," she replies, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "I'll look it up."

We end up stopping about an hour later at some hole-in-the-wall motel. I don't really mind, there's less of a chance that someone'll see me here. Just in case, she goes inside to get a room and when she comes back out, she tells me where to go. We get the small bags that we packed just for this purpose out of the car, but leave the rest, aside from the instruments. I put the instruments by the window on the far side of the room and then lay down on the bed, face first. I can hear Mia setting our things up in the bathroom and I have every intention of getting up to help her, but then I wake up and she's sitting beside me in the dark.

"How long was I asleep?" I groan.

"Only, like, 30 minutes," she shrugs, running her fingers through my tangled hair.

"Sorry," I grunt as I sit up. "I was gonna help you put that stuff up."

"It's not a big deal," she says nonchalantly as she lays back on the bed. "There wasn't much to do. Besides, you drove the whole time."

She closes her eyes and mindlessly traces my fingers with hers. I look down at her, and even though she appears calm, I can't help but feel like she's burying her emotions.

"Is this hard for you?" I ask quietly, leaning on one elbow and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with the other.

"Is what hard for me?" she opens her eyes. "Going back home?"

"Going back home," I nod. "Taking a long car ride to get there."

"Oh," she frowns. "I can't let it bother me forever, Adam."

"I know that," I nod again. "But, that doesn't mean that it can't bother you right now."

"I can still hear them," she says quietly. "As long as I can hear them, I'm okay. I can handle it."

"You can hear them right now?" I ask, laying down beside her, the top of our heads touching.

"Yeah," she smiles a little. "You know what they're saying? My mom, at least?"

"What?" I can't help but smile, too.

"That she's glad we found our way back to each other."

She's quiet for a minute.

"And that I should kiss you."

"Well," I say, looking her straight in the eye. "Your mom always has been a smart woman."

She smiles at me before I lean down and place my lips to hers. The tiredness seems to leave my body as we move closer to each other, and by the time she reaches for the hem of my shirt, it's like I've never felt more awake.

When I finally do fall asleep, she's tucked into my side with her head resting on my shoulder. In times like these, I still find it hard to believe that she's really here. I waited for this for so long, dreamed of it. I've had her back for a few months now and I still can't seem to shake the feeling that at any moment, I could wake up and she'd be gone. But, just like every morning since she came back into my life, I wake up and she's still there, her leg intertwined with mine.

I sit up carefully and slide out from under the sheets. I feel like I got hit by a truck last night. I make sure that the water is hot before I step into the shower, and instantly I feel one hundred times better. I emerge and find that she's left out a pair of clothes for me and the ones that I took off last night have already been put away. As a matter of fact, with the exception of what she needs to start her day, everything has already been put away. I still don't understand how she can be so productive so early: we only slept for a few hours.

"I really need coffee," she says when she sees me standing in the doorway.

'We'll get some," I laugh. "I can assure you."

"I'm gonna get a shower really quick, and then we can head out. I want to get an early start."

"I'll go ahead and put the stuff that you don't need in the car."

"Sounds good," she says giving me a quick kiss before she closes the bathroom door.

Once we check out, we hit the road again in search of decent coffee. We finally find it and then we're off again. Her eyes are still glued to the road, as wide as can be. It's absolutely silent in the car, so I turn the radio on. It's still set on the classical station. The piece that's on is just about over, but she smiles anyway. And then the next piece begins to play. I recognize it immediately, and I know for a fact that she does, too. Her eyes get wider, if that's even possible, and I see her shut down. I can see her reliving the terror in her memory, and I instantly move to change the station. She stops me, though, her hand grabbing my arm. I pull over to the side of the road, her hand still on my arm, and I watch as she relives a tragedy, all while we listen to the piece that was playing when her entire world was taken from her.


End file.
